Seven Kingdoms
by asukablu
Summary: Seven gods have been reincarnated in the forms of fourteen-year-olds who must fulfill an ancient prophecy or watch their world be torn apart by war.
1. Prophecy

The Prophecy of Seven

Seven heroes coming of age

Shall rise to prevent

The war of rage.

One forsaken by a father's love,

One delivered from the land above,

Two separated from time of birth,

One other has yet to be unearthed,

One has lived, and lived again,

And one has come to make amends.

Should they fail to come forth and act,

To form the bonds of an ancient pact,

The world will become a place of war,

And know no peace forevermore.


	2. Prologue

Prologue

A lavish, royal-blue carriage was traveling along a winding country road on its way to Firdane. The air was hot and humid, the sleepy stillness punctuated by the splish-clop of water horse hooves and the creaking of carriage wheels.

A boy sat in the carriage, staring glumly at the passing landscape. The nearer they got to Firdane, the duller things seemed to get. He had visited Firdane regularly when he was small, but stopped going after the political situation became tense. He wouldn't even be in this carriage if his father hadn't wanted to marry him off. The boy sighed, blowing a lock of silver hair off of his forehead. He never thought that he'd be a victim of a political marriage; unlike the other kingdoms, Glicia didn't require the royal family to marry someone of equal status.

Apparently, Lord Nightlei's daughter was his age, and quite eligible for marriage-especially now that her father had gained favor with Firdane's ruler. She was also beautiful, vivacious, and the talk of Firdanian nobility. The boy frowned thoughtfully. That didn't sound like the girl he'd used to play with. She had been pretty (exceptionally so), but she had been a tomboy; she preferred boots and breeches to slippers and gowns, and would rather scuffle in the dirt than have a tea party. It was hard to believe that a person could change so dramatically.

"Your Highness, we are almost at the border," Me'er said from the front of the carriage.

"Really? You don't say? I honestly couldn't tell, even with all those years of political geography lessons you crammed into my head," the boy replied sarcastically. He was in a bad mood.

"Your Highness, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. You must remember to be courteous—"

"—polite, kind, handsome, dashing, and all the rest of that princely stuff," the boy finished tersely. "I get it, okay? Father told me already. Waves, Me'er! You heckle more than a sea mare!"

Me'er sniffed disapprovingly. "I can only hope that you do not treat Lady Reyna the way you treat me, Your Highness," he said stiffly.

The boy's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "Who the Glic is Lady Reyna?"

"Please do not swear, Your Highness. Lady Reyna is Lord Nightlei's daughter." Me'er turned to look back at him. "And your potential wife, if you play your cards right."

"Reyna? But I thought—"the boy broke off as the carriage lurched wildly, the water horses' terrified screams piercing the air.

"Please do not move, Your Highness. It seems that we have been stopped by bandits," Me'er said calmly.

"What? Where are the guards? Me'er, what's happening out there?" He anxiously reached for his twin swords.

"The guards have been disposed of," Me'er said in that same cool voice he used to give orders. "And so will you, if you disobey us."

Us? The boy's mind reeled in confusion. It was impossible! Me'er, a traitor? He had been under his care for as long as he could remember! Still, he had been trained to react immediately to any hint of betrayal, even if it was to be from Me'er.

The boy snatched up his swords and quickly buckled them on. Sweat stuck his bangs to his forehead, but he didn't have any time to brush them away. He burst through the carriage door—and into the midst of five heavily armed bandits. His eyes narrowed into icy blue slits of concentration as he analyzed the scene. He had taken them by surprise. He charged the largest and slashed his chest. As the bandit crumpled in pain, the boy thumped him on the head with the hilt of a sword. The man fell unconscious.

The four remaining bandits surrounded him, their faces wary. He didn't hesitate; he flew at the nearest one, who struck out wildly with his dagger. It cut into his shoulder as he came within its range, but he disarmed the bandit and kicked his head. The second man slumped to the dirt.

The boy dispatched the third man, gaining a few more cuts. A blade suddenly sprouted from his leg. He bit back a scream of pain, a strangled growl erupting from his throat. Pain formed a red haze around him, blurring his vision. He staggered; the stab was a hot brand that pressed into his skin, white with heat. The boy managed to look down, fighting off nausea at what he saw. The wound had gone all the way to the bone.

A sudden blow from behind sent him reeling. Sprawling in the dirt, he screamed in agony. As black shadows closed in around the edges of his vision, he looked up blearily from the ground. Me'er looked down on him, his expression calm and cold, as if he had just finished a lecture on art. Turning, he walked away, his green and blue Chief Advisor robes swishing around him.

The boy went limp as the last vestiges of his strength left him. Dimly, he heard Me'er command, "Leave him. The boy is dead, or as good as. Come. It is time to report to Mistress."

It was no good; he couldn't stay conscious. Silently, he gave in to the rushing tide of darkness.


	3. Chapter One: Reckless Abandon

Chapter One: Reckless Abandon

Raine gave the ground in front of the tavern one last sweep, and a cloud of dust puffed away. Sighing, she brushed her hair out of her eyes and squinted at the towering skyscraper of scarlet glass. Called the Eternal Flame, it was the king's palace as well as the pillar of Firdanian society, and sat at the very center of the kingdom's capital city, Firaga. The scarlet building housed one of the most important treasures of Firdane: a burning piece of Zorchet that had been set on fire by the founder of Firdane, Firda, thousands of years ago. It had been burning ever since.

Raine glanced around. Travelers and locals streamed along the thoroughfare; some occasionally broke off to turn into the blacksmith's forge or Greta's Traveling Supplies, but most were headed for the Marketplace. At this time of day, many of the Ember Crown's regulars would be at the market square. Some of them would be selling their wares among the hectic squabble of haggling, trading, buying, and selling.

"Hey Midnight!" called a scruffy boy. Raine's head whipped around and fixed him with a glare.

"I thought I told you not to call me that, Lock," Raine growled, looking around to see if anyone had heard. It wouldn't do for anyone to find out that Raine, the Ember Crown's new barmaid, was actually the notorious thief and gang leader known as Midnight.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Boss," Lock chuckled sheepishly.

Raine's bright green eyes narrowed.

"Uh, I mean Mid—uh, Raine."

Lock was a freckled, mischievous boy of 10 with a missing front tooth. His ever-present aviator's cap and goggles were perched on his head, patched and scuffed like the rest of his clothes.

"Why do you care so much what we call you? You're hair's a dead giveaway!" Lock snorted, reaching up to tug a strand of Raine's midnight blue hair.

Raine scowled and smacked his hand away. "It doesn't matter," she said firmly. "No one's seen my hair before, and everyone thinks that Midnight is male, remember?"

Lock sighed and looked away. His eyebrows scrunched together, and his eyes took on a brooding look. "I wish you would come back, Raine," Lock muttered. "It's lonely without you."

Raine softened. "Lock, I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm tired of stealing in order to live."

Lock's face slipped into and obstinate pout. "Everyone misses you. You've led us and kept us fed for six years."

"Yes, but—"

"You were the one who gathered us. We were all unwanted, even by other gangs! You were the one who took us in and taught us how to take care of ourselves! You made us what we are today! We weren't doing anything wrong! Steal from the rich, give to the poor; that's what you taught us, right?"

"Stealing's still stealing, Lock! I told you, all of you could get jobs! The blacksmith's made an offer for Ox already. Lock, the locksmith's wanted you ever since you picked _his _lock in 10 seconds flat. All of you are talented, but it's not going to be worth a pile of dung if you're caught. Lord Nightlei's already put out a price of 1,000 jyls for my head. You have to stop stealing with reckless abandon, especially now that I'm gone," Raine cried fiercely.

"Funny you should mention that word. _Abandon,_" Lock said mockingly. His voice broke. "Isn't that what you did to us?"

"Lock, no—"

"You don't care! You don't care that you hurt us! You _abandoned _us!" He ran off into the crowd.

Raine stood there, frozen in place. Memories ran through her head: Lock's anguished eyes, full of angry tears and pain; Ox, cold and drenched, huddled beneath the Flaming Bridge; Gear, her eyes empty and hopeless as she rummaged through the trash; Shadow, cringing with fright whenever anyone approached her, as though expecting to be hit.

Raine had cried with them, laughed with them, taken care of them. She had given them what she had, and what she didn't have, she stole. She had trained them and encouraged their talents to grow. And now…she had abandoned them.

The midday sun rose and its light struck the Eternal Flame. The building became blinding and the air around the skyscraper turned scarlet as gasps of awe rose from those who had never seen Firaga's spectacle before. At the moment, the king would be meeting with his advisors at the very top of the Eternal Flame; they would all gather in his office, with windows of reflective scarlet glass surrounding them. Raine stared at it unflinchingly, despite the blinding glare.

Ever since that day, seven years ago, she had sworn to never be like her father. But Raine had broken that promise in the end, just like her father had broken his.


	4. Chapter Two: Eleecia Mar

Chapter Two: Eleecia Mar

Something warm and wet smacked against Husky's face. He stirred. Hot, putrid air invaded his nostrils. Where was he? Husky's eyes snapped open; a large mouth lined with fangs and a lolling tongue huffed into his face.

He sat up quickly with a small cry of surprise, forcing the dog to roll off of him. A sharp pain lanced through Husky's skull. He clutched his head and groaned, his eyes shut tight against the pounding ache. As the pain retreated, he cautiously raised his head and looked around at his surroundings. He was in a small, cozy cottage with a single open door and a glass window. Husky was in a little pallet on the opposite side of the room from the fireplace, over which hung an array of cooking utensils. A staircase was positioned right by the door, leading up to the second floor. A table with three chairs was placed in the center of the room.

The dog gave a concerned bark, startling Husky out of his reverie. Looking down, he smiled and scratched his head. The dog gave a contented whine and closed his eyes, pushing his head against Husky's hand. Then Husky noticed the dog's fur.

It was a deep, rich, golden-red, shot through with streaks of orange and yellow. Eyes widening in confusion and recognition, Husky's mouth dropped open. "Alph—"

"Alphred! Get away from the poor boy and let him rest!" A woman of about 50 stepped through the door, carrying a basket of fire tomatoes. She marched up to Alphred and shooed him away. Staring after the dog's retreating figure, she shook her head. "By Firda's Flame, I declare I don't know what to do about that dog."

Noticing that Husky was awake, she regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Oh, you're awake, are you? About time. I found you two days ago, right at the border of Glicia. You were already half-dead by the time I got there. Fair broke my back, bringing you here. It's good that you're awake, but you're still wounded. You may rest here until you feel better."

The woman paused as she headed out the door. "Your twin swords are under the bed," she added, and left. Dumbfounded, Husky stared after her.

"Wake up, child. Wake up," the woman said, shaking Husky awake. Blearily, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. The fire blazed merrily, lighting the room with its flickering flames. Dishes of vegetables, meat, and flame tomatoes were laid out on the table. A child sat in one seat—the other two were empty.

She had been staring avidly at Husky, and she now waved cheerfully and smiled. "Hi! I'm Emma! Grandma picked you up and brought you here. I'm glad you're finally awake."

Husky smiled. "Hello, Emma. I'm glad I'm awake, too."

"Can you stand?" the woman asked him.

He nodded. "I think so."

Carefully, Husky got out of the bed and lurched unsteadily to the table. By the time he sat down, his teeth were clenched in pain and his leg was on fire. Husky trembled with the effort of not crying out.

The woman watched all of this with a shrewd eye. Finally, she went to the last chair and sat down. Emma chattered throughout the meal, but the other two were silent.

Something about the room had been bothering Husky. He looked around, but he just couldn't think of it. As his eyes landed on the fire, it hit him. The temperature! Of course! As Emma paused to draw breath, Husky hastily asked," It's the middle of the Haze and the fire is burning in here, so why isn't it hot?"

Out of the Bloom, the Glitter, the Fall, and the Haze, the Haze was the hottest time of the year.

Emma and her grandmother stared at him before Emma burst into peals of laughter. "It's Cold Fyre, silly!" Emma choked out between giggles.

Husky stared at her, nonplussed. What the Glic was Cold Fyre? And why was it so funny that he didn't know what it was?

The woman smiled, amused at Husky's obvious confusion. "Cold Fyre was created to provide light and cool air in hot climates. It's quite new, so it has not yet had a chance to be introduced to any of the other kingdoms." She paused, glancing at him slyly. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it. It was originally created by Lord Nightlei in order to please King Embermore, but it is now sold in traveler's shops all over Firdane."

Husky's eyes narrowed. Did she suspect that he wasn't Firdanian? She couldn't have seen the carriage, and he was wearing everyday Firdanian clothing. It was of good quality, but nothing an ordinary citizen couldn't afford. And the notion of fire that was cold—preposterous! Still, there it was, its flames licking the firewood. He'd better act familiar with it, just to throw her off the scent.

"Cold Fyre. Of course. Forgive me, but my head is still a bit fuzzy," Husky lied.

The woman nodded. "Of course." Turning to Emma, she said," It's time for bed, Little Spark."

"What? But I'm not sleepy!"

"It's well past your bedtime, Emma. I saw you yawning over your tomatoes," the woman chuckled.

Emma reddened. "I was not," she protested petulantly. "And I want to talk to our guest!"

"There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. Now off to bed you go," she said firmly.

The child pouted, but obeyed.

Husky continued to eat, occasionally looking up at the woman. By the time he finished, the fire was burning low and the room had become warm.

Now the woman fixed him with a stare. "You were found under some suspicious circumstances, boy. Not many Firdanians care to stray too close to Glicia's border these days. Not with war on the horizon. Who are you?"

Husky froze. "I'm afraid I don't understand you," he said, fighting to keep his voice casual.

"Who are you?" she repeated slowly. "Why are you in Firdane? What is your purpose?"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," Husky said coolly, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I see," she said thoughtfully.

The silence grew thick. Husky stared at the flames; their hypnotic dance and the warmth of the room made him drowsy. He found himself wondering what he was going to do. He couldn't intrude upon this woman's hospitality forever. She was already too suspicious of him. So what should he do? He could try and make his way to Firaga, or he could go home. He had to let his father know that Me'er was a traitor! But he couldn't make it back home alone. Perhaps he could—

"What is your name?" the woman asked abruptly.

Startled into honesty by her sudden question, Husky unthinkingly blurted," Husky."

As the woman smiled in triumph, he mentally cursed himself. Waves! How could he let his guard down like that? He knew the possible consequences were: a traitor's dagger through his heart, poison in his cup, the destruction of his kingdom. How could he have been so stupid?

"As you know my name, I think it is only right for me to know yours. You have me at a disadvantage," Husky said, smiling coldly.

The woman nodded graciously. "Of course, Your Highness. Forgive me. I am Eleecia Mar, ex-commander of His Majesty's Royal Guard."

Husky tensed, ready to spring for his swords. His mind was a desperate whirl. This didn't feel like a trap, but how else would she know who he was? Almost no one outside of the royal family knew his first name. He had always been referred to as Prince Silvercrest, so why-?

"Who are you?" Husky hissed through clenched teeth.

Eleecia laughed quietly. "Calm down, Your Highness. We shouldn't wake Emma. I have told you who I am."

"How do you know who I am?"

"Well, it's quite obvious, isn't it?" she frowned. "You're swords are quite unique, with properties that can only be found in the greatest Glician forge. Plus, they have the Silvercrest coat of arms."

Husky glared at her. It was all true, of course. The swords were forged from orihalcon, mithryl, and ocean ore, and the metals had been heated in fire of flame coral and driftwood. After the swords were forged, they had been blessed by the wave sprites, the Ra'altza, and presented to him on his seventh birthday.

"How do you know I didn't steal the swords?"

"After I retired from the Royal Guard, I was made nursemaid and bodyguard to an old playmate of yours. She mentioned you often." Eleecia's face softened. "She was a wild child, and you were her only friend."

Husky's jaw dropped open. "R-Raine?" he choked out, surprise tangling his tongue.

Eleecia nodded. "Alphred recognized you almost immediately."

He finally relaxed, sagging back into his chair. How ironic that, out of all the people to take him in, it would be Raine's old nursemaid!

As Eleecia stood up to clear the plates, Husky got up to help her. She smiled and told him, "Go to sleep, Your Highness. You must be tired."

"Yes, Ma'am," he muttered. "Thank you.

Settling into the bed, he knew that he had found someone that he could trust. He was safe…for now.


	5. Chapter Three: Awakening

Chapter Three: Awakening

"Lock giving you a hard time?" Fergus said from the doorway of the tavern.

Raine turned around and smiled wearily at him. "Yeah, he's still upset. It's been a month since I left, but…." She shrugged helplessly.

Fergus was part of the crew on an aireal. Aireals were flying machines, elegant crafts of gears, cloth, and metal. Some were light and delicate, while others were heavy and bulky; all were powered by magic. The aireal that Fergus worked on, the Ruby, was used mainly to transport cargo. Presently it was at the docking station, having just delivered a load of iron ore from Kyrosia.

The smell from Fergus's cup rose and stung Raine's nose. "Shouldn't you be at the Marketplace shopping for a present for Sophie instead of sitting around at a tavern drinking jacksmoke?" she teased.

The brawny man laughed. "I would, but I'd rather not be mobbed by the ladies," Fergus said, grinning roguishly.

Raine snorted. "Aye, mobbed when all the women get an eyeful of your ugly mug."

"Ouch. Sharp as always," he chuckled.

She pushed past him and entered the Ember Crown. Raine squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Only about half the tables were occupied; it was quiet today.

"Well, well. Look who decided to rejoin us," a nasal voice sneered.

But not quiet enough. Raine's eyes narrowed as they focused on the speaker. "Jorgan," she greeted him coolly.

Jorgan was the 16-year-old son of the owners of the bakery. He was short and scrawny and looked remarkably like a rat. Jorgan considered himself above work and spent his time hanging around various taverns in the slums of Firaga after being thrown out from most of the respectable bars. He had only recently begun to frequent the Ember Crown.

Jorgan whispered a snide comment to his cronies, sending them into raucous laughter. Ignoring them, Raine went into the kitchens. She greeted Mya, the mistress of the tavern.

"Where's Karl?" she asked, looking around. Karl was Mya's husband, as well as the one who kept the order and threw out the drunkards before they began to brawl.

"He's out running errands," Mya replied. She added the finishing touches to a bowl of stew. "Mel, go take this to Jorgan."

She nodded and left with the stew. Moments later, there came a crash, mingled with Mel's cry of surprise. Mya raced to the front room, with Raine right behind her. A chaotic scene greeted them.

The bowl of stew was on the floor, its contents splattered everywhere. Jorgan gripped Mel's arm as she cried out, trying vainly to twist away. The other patrons were staring in shock, but Fergus was beginning to rise, a thunderous look on his face.

Mya looked panicked. "Karl's not here! What do we do?" she hissed frantically.

Raine had never seen her so agitated. If it were anyone else, Mya would be in control, but against Jorgan and his goons…. Cursing Jorgan under her breath, she whispered," Let me handle it."

Ignoring Mya's protests, Raine entered the room.

"Don't be a fool, Fergus," she said quietly. Everyone's gaze became riveted on her. "Brawling's forbidden in the Ember Crown. You should know that."

Raine scowled at Jorgan, who had released Mel. He stood there, snickering at the trouble he'd caused. "Oh, shut up," she sighed irritably. "Can't you, for once in your miserable life, act less like an idiot? Of course not. We've warned you to curb that stupidity of yours, but you never listen, do you? So enough is enough. Leave."

Jorgan sneered. "And who's going to make me? Little old you?"

Raine paused. He was stronger than he looked, but he was a coward. She could take him. She shrugged. "Maybe."

A dagger appeared in her hand. Raine flicked her wrist, burying it in the far wall. Pieces of his hair fell to the floor.

"What do you think you're doing, you little brat!?" Jorgan roared. "Uppity little bitch! Who do you think you are, you _hispkt_?"

There was a collective gasp of outrage. "Hispkt" was a word from the lost language of fire, and was the worst curse in Firdane. No one was sure exactly what it meant, but it was roughly equivalent to all the worst swearwords combined.

"Get. Out," Raine said coldly. Her voice crackled and hissed, like fire consuming a log. The air in the tavern began to grow warmer, as if heated by her anger.

Jorgan looked unnerved and began to back away when his face suddenly hardened. He spat at her; he missed, but his intent was clear. Raine's hands tingled and burned.

A small flame sprouted in Jorgan's sleeve. He screamed shrilly, hopping around in panic. Jorgan dropped to the floor and began to roll, desperately trying to put out the fire. "What are you waiting for?" he yelled. "Get that little bitch!"

Raine was momentarily dumbfounded. Who was he talking to? Jorgan's henchmen surrounded her. "Flickers," she cursed. She'd forgotten that he had backup!

Raine gripped a dagger in each hand and gritted her teeth. Fergus was ready to fight for her. She could tell. "No!" she spat out. "Stay back, Fergus!"

Raine kicked out and felt her foot connect with an abdomen. It felt satisfying. The boy fell back, providing an opening. She dived forward and rolled to her feet, whirling around to face the group. They advanced warily, tensed and ready to spring.

The door slammed open and Karl entered, carrying a bag of vegetables from the Marketplace. He took in the scene: Raine, crouching with her daggers glinting at her sides; the group of Jorgan's goons, backing Raine against the wall; Fergus, half-standing, frozen in indecision; the customers, sitting at their tables; Jorgan, whimpering on the floor. Every eye was turned to the door, the room at an almost comical standstill.

"What," Karl said," is going on here?"

Jorgan could tell that it was over. He got up, cursing, and blundered past Karl. His cronies followed close behind, suddenly reduced to a group of lumbering boys led by a sly coward.

A thick silence fell over the room, with every eye burning into Raine. It was finally broken by a slightly hysterical whoop. "Good job, Raine!"

Laughter broke out, along with a few cheers. Karl shook his head and went to the kitchens. The atmosphere, while not entirely at ease, seemed to be normal again. Raine relaxed as Fergus caught her eye. She shook her head; she wanted to be alone. He nodded and looked away.

Raine smiled fondly. Dear Fergus. She had first met him while being chased by a stall keeper for stealing his bread. Fergus had hidden her and treated her to a meal. Little by little, he had gained her trust until they became as close as brother and sister.

Raine looked down and stared at her hands. They were buzzing with power. A faint glow surrounded them, like the last embers of a dying fire. Her fists clenched. What was happening to her? She felt different, as if her life had become suffused with light. Everything was clearer, and in sharper detail. She felt _alive_. Something had awakened inside her, something that had been triggered by her anger. Something powerful.

An ominous feeling came over her. Jorgan had scampered, but Raine couldn't shake that feeling that he was planning something. Something underhanded. She shook her head—surely it didn't mean anything. But just in case…. She stepped outside the tavern.

The sun was beginning to set, and the shadows made the road seem dark and mysterious. Perfect.

"Shadow," she said quietly.

Silence.

"I know you've been watching me. Please come out."

A thin girl slowly emerged from the shadows. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her pale complexion, and she was dressed entirely in black. Smiling, she shyly said," Sorry, Raine. I'm still a bit reluctant to reveal myself, even to you."

Raine laughed. "I'm glad you revealed yourself at all." She paused. "How's Lock?"

"He'll be okay. He's just sulking. But no matter how angry he was, he had no right to say that to you," Shadow said quietly.

Raine smiled bitterly. "Didn't he? Do I really not deserve that?"

"You didn't. You're always looking out for us. Even this…you're trying to get us to lead honest lives. You're always trying to protect us as much as you can. That's why you told us to give Midnight up if we're ever captured, in exchange for our lives. Right?"

A lump rose in Raine's throat, almost choking her. She cleared her throat with difficulty and gently patted Shadow's head. She had tried her best to lead them down the right path, stealing only when they absolutely had to. Shadow was only ten, yet she had already gone through so many hardships. They all had.

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Name it," Shadow said firmly.

"Follow Jorgan. I don't trust him, and he's likely to seek revenge. I assume you saw what happened?"

"Of course," Shadow nodded, her eyes hardening.

"Then follow him. If that rat fink does anything suspicious, let me know as soon as you can."

Shadow grinned, giving a mock salute, and faded into the shadows.

"Don't interfere with whatever he does. Just report to me and I'll deal with it," Raine warned. Her voice softened. "Be careful."

Silence.

Raine turned and went back into the tavern, yellow lamplight throwing the shadows into sharp contrast. Behind her, a voice whispered, "Thank you."

"Fergus, shouldn't the Ruby be leaving soon?" Raine handed him his mug of jacksmoke.

"Nope." Fergus's face disappeared into the mug.

"I don't know why you drink that stuff."

"It's an acquired taste," Fergus shrugged.

"Right. And to acquire it, you had to lose your taste buds." Raine turned away and began to wipe a newly vacant table.

It had been three days since she'd last seen Shadow. Raine's eyebrows furrowed in worry. Why hadn't she reported back yet? Shadow couldn't have been caught? Raine chuckled ruefully, dismissing that thought. That was practically impossible.

The door burst open with a loud crash. Raine whirled around, startled. Shadow was bent double, gasping for breath. Sweat ran down her hair and dripped onto the stone floor.

Raine stepped forward, concerned. "Shadow, what-?"

"Raine, it's Lock! The palace guards have captured Lock!"


	6. Chapter Four: Insanity

Chapter Four: Insanity

Raine's jaw dropped open in shock. Lock had been captured? But how? She looked at Shadow, examining her closely. Her knees and elbows were skinned, and her clothes were in rags. Her hands were scraped raw, with blood clotting on her knuckles. A black eye was beginning to develop, and there was a large bruise on Shadow's left cheek. She was also bleeding from her head, a thin trickle of crimson blood tracing her cheek and dripping off her chin, mingling with her sweat.

Shadow began to waver unsteadily, as though drunk. Her mouth moved wordlessly, attempting, no doubt, to inform Raine about Lock. Shadow's eyes became flat and blank, her eyelids flickering as she fell. Raine rushed forward, managing to catch her before she hit the floor.

"Fergus, Shadow's injured! It's bad! Help me take her upstairs," Raine commanded urgently.

He nodded, sweeping Shadow into his arms. Ignoring the stares of the other customers, they raced up the stairs to Raine's room. Fergus gently deposited Shadow on the bed and stood back as Raine rushed past him. As a street rat, she had experience with injuries. She checked Shadow's various wounds and raced downstairs. Moments later, she was back with supplies in hand. As Raine began to bandage Shadow, she commanded Fergus to mix up a paste of ice lilies to put on Shadow's bruises.

"Go to the herbalist and ask for an infusion to stop infection. Then ask her for some vine cloth. It stops bleeding," Raine said, her eyes bright with worry.

Without another word, Fergus left. She continued to apply the ice lily paste until he returned. Taking the potion from him, Raine dabbed some on each of Shadow's wounds, taking special care with the one on her head. She then took the vine cloth and bandaged the cut.

The vine cloth was woven from the fibers of a special vine grown only in Cerone. The vine was said to be a panacea for almost any type of wound.

Finally, Raine sat back with a sigh of relief. "She should be fine now. As for Lock, they won't do anything to him yet," she said, her eyes narrowing.

Fergus frowned. "How do you know?"

"What they want from him is Midnight. And knowing Lock, he'd never give me up."

"That's true, but wouldn't they interrogate him? They aren't beneath torture."

Raine was silent. Fergus was right. The nobles at the Eternal Flame would do anything to obtain the things they wanted. To call them nobility was a joke; they were anything but. And the king and Lord Nightlei were the worst of all.

Raine opened her mouth, but all that came out was a raspy whisper. She cleared her throat, finding her voice. "I hate to ask this of you, but could you make sure that they leave him alone? Just give me five days. I know you have some connections…."

Fergus nodded. "Leave it to me. But what are you going to do?"

Raine smiled grimly. "I want to hear Shadow's side of the story first.

It took three hours for Shadow to awaken. Raine had been dozing, her head drooping, when Shadow's scream snapped her awake. Raine's head jerked up, cricking her neck painfully.

"Raine, wake up! Lock's been captured! You have to rescue him! He can't possibly escape on his own. He can't! They're keeping him in a magic cage. Those guards, th-the guards, they…he can't Raine. He can't," Shadow babbled, almost sobbing.

Rubbing her neck, Raine said soothingly," Calm down, Shadow. It's alright. Lock will be alright. You're fine, Little Flame. Everything will be okay."

Gradually, Shadow's breathing slowed. Watching Shadow, Raine felt anger rise in her again, threatening to boil over. How dare they do this to her? Shadow was just a ten-year-old girl, yet those flickering guards, full-grown men, had the _gall, _the _audacity_, to gang up on her!

Raine gently hugged Shadow, careful not to jar her wounds. She felt the young girl go limp in her arms as her tears fell.

"I'm sorry," Raine whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

At last, Shadow took a shuddering breath and drew back. Gone was the vulnerable, frantic girl who had been crying in Raine's arms a few moments ago. Her emotions locked tight inside, her eyes now carried a steely glint of determination.

Raine smiled. Shadow was growing up. "Where are Ox and Gear?"

"I told them to move from the hideout, as it's been infiltrated. It's not safe now."

Raine frowned. What had happened to hideout? "So they're unharmed?"

Shadow tilted her head uncertainly. "Well, they should be. You know how impulsive Gear can be. Ox has a good head on his shoulders, but Gear's too fast for him."

"They should be fine for now. Gear's more sensible than she'd like people to think. Rather than that, how are you?"

"I'm okay, mostly. My head's pounding to blazes, but I've had worse."

Raine eyed her skeptically. She knew that that was true, especially considering Shadow's past, but that didn't meant that it didn't hurt. She was paler than usual, her skin almost transparent, and she looked very weak.

"I need to tell you what happened," Shadow said urgently. "I'm fine. I look worse than I feel," she added.

Raine started; she'd been caught mid-worry. She nodded. "If you're sure."

In a quiet, clear voice, she began her tale.

"I was tailing Jorgan like you told me to. He didn't do much these first two days—just went from tavern to tavern. But on the night of the second day, he went to our hideout. Everyone still thinks that it belongs to Pigger's gang, so it wasn't really a cause for outright alarm. I didn't think so, anyway. Not at the time. Oh, if only I had! Lock would'na been caught! If I'da known what that l'il rat fink was plann'in, I—" Shadow fell silent, an anguished look on her face.

Shadow and the others rarely used street talk in Raine's presence. She had insisted upon them learning how to talk "properly", though, as Lock pointed out, "Fancy talk ain't gonna make anyone feel better none when we're robbin' 'em blind." This had earned him a smack for his cheek. Now they only fell into the habit whenever they were upset (with the exception of Lock). And Shadow was most certainly upset.

"It's alright, Shadow. You couldn't have known," Raine said firmly. Perhaps recounting the tale was too much for her. After all, she had been through so much already, and now Shadow blamed herself. Raine began to tell Shadow that it was okay, that she could rest until she felt better, but Shadow stopped her.

"I'll be fine. This is too important," she insisted. Shadow resumed her story.

"Though I wasn't exactly alarmed, I still had this nagging feeling. He couldn't have just stopped by the hideout on a whim. So I followed Jorgan to his house, where he spent the night pacing. The light was on all night, and his silhouette occasionally passed the window. I was afraid to sleep in case he would try to leave while I was out. It wouldn't do to lose him."

"I was bit sleepy when morning came, so my wits were a wee bit addled. I followed Jorgan to the Eternal Flame. He talked the gate guards for a while before they let him in. This confused me, but I kept my eyes on the gates. Moments later, Jorgan walked out with a large bag of jyls and a smug expression on his face. I…I didn't realize what he'd done until Lock was captured and taken to the Eternal Flame. Jorgan, he—he snitched on Lock." Shadow's voice broke and her hands clenched, trembling with fury.

"Jorgan? Jorgan did all this? Did he also injure you?" Raine's voice came out sounding strange; sharp, yet far away. A roaring beat filled her ears, drowning out all but the deep, pounding rhythm of her anger. Raine gripped the bed's wooden frame, her knuckles bone white. The wood creaked in protest, threatening to splinter.

"Raine." Shadow said her name quietly, but firmly. "Jorgan isn't worth it."

Raine's teeth clenched. "Just tell me. _Did. He. Hurt. You_."

Shadow sighed in resignation. "I tried to stop the guards from taking Lock, but they pushed me aside. That's how I got the scrapes."

Raine coldly raised an eyebrow. "Your head wound?"

Shadow bit her lip, turning paler. "…Jorgan," she said reluctantly, looking away.

Abruptly, Raine stood up. She no longer felt fury. No, perhaps that was the wrong way to put it. The fury was there, but buried under a cold, crystal mask of calm. She knew what she was going to do; now all that was left was to do it. Raine touched her face; she knew it was expressionless.

Raine turned from the bed and began to pack. Within minutes, the room was bare of her possessions. Fergus walked in just as she slung on her pack.

"Going somewhere?"

Raine looked at him. "Operation R."

"What's-?"

"Rescue and revenge," Shadow said, resting on her pillow.

Fergus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I suppose you wouldn't listen even if I tried to stop you."

Raine smiled for the first time since Shadow had come stumbling into the Ember Flame. Dear Fergus. How she wished he was her brother!

"What am I supposed to tell Mya?"

Raine paused. "Tell her it's urgent. Family business." She let her gaze rest on Shadow. "If this fails, and I am captured, do not attempt to rescue me. Neither should you, Fergus."

"But I can't leave you! You can't rescue Lock without being captured! You know that you will, Raine!" Shadow cried.

Raine was quiet for a while. Shadow was right; she knew that she probably wouldn't make it out of the Eternal Flame. But there was no other way. She couldn't let them get captured, so she had to go alone. At the very least, Lock would escape. And there was only one way she would also make it out alive.

"Midnight shall live again," Raine finally whispered. Comprehension dawned on Shadow's face, while Fergus's remained worried. This couldn't go on for much longer. She had to leave. Now. Or her anger would fade, and Jorgan would not be punished. Not if her flickering conscience had anything to do with it.

"Take good care of the gang, Shadow. May Firda's Flame burn within you," Raine said. She left the room quickly, before they could stop her. As she closed the door of the Ember Crown behind her, she felt the barely suppressed anger surface again. Raine grinned, baring her teeth in feral anticipation of the hunt ahead. She was the predator; Jorgan was the prey. She would hunt him down and make him pay.

"Oh, it has been too long," Raine snarled.

She stood in the shadows behind a large pile of wooden crates. Having tracked her target to a pub near the aireal docks, she now waited for him to emerge again. She was cold and focused, her mind clear and sharp despite the fact that she had been shadowing him for more than half the night. He had finally lost his friends at the last tavern, leaving them to fight over a pretty barmaid while he had stumbled on to the Air's Wings.

The door creaked open, warm light and lively chatter spilling out onto the cobblestones. A boy of 16 came staggering out, drunk and giggling like a fool. Raine's gaze sharpened. Jorgan. He hiccupped and fell against the wall of the Air's Wings. Lurching upright, Jorgan began slurring a ballad about Mug and his bottomless tankard of ale as he swayed along the streets. Raine followed, staying in the shadows.

Though Jorgan was practically senseless, she was still cautious. One did not survive the streets and maintain the persona of Midnight by being careless. Raine's eyes narrowed. There! He was turning into an alleyway with a dead end! The flame has died, Raine thought, smiling humorlessly.

_Mug, Mug, the dirty lug!_

_Him and his tankard of ale!_

_He did but try_

_To drain it dry,_

_And failing he put it on sale!_

It was a horrible drinking song, made worse by echo in the alleyway and Jorgan's off-key voice. Raine scowled in annoyance, her ears twitching. Her voice wasn't much better, but at least she didn't use it to belt out terrible drinking ballads at the top of her lungs. She followed him into the alleyway.

"Oops! Wrong way," he giggled. Turning around, he found came face-to-face with Raine. Jorgan froze, then stumbled against the back wall. "Oh. You. Don scare me like 'at," he slurred.

Raine stepped closer, her face expressionless. Cold contempt and fury burned in her stomach. This drunken rat, this half-wit, had caused Shadow and Lock so much pain. Looking at him slumped against the wall, it was hard to believe that he could wreak so much damage.

Jorgan seemed to sense the dangerous aura that came from the slight figure in front of him, for he managed to rise unsteadily to his feet. Seeing her stony mask of calm, his face instantly twisted into a snarl. Jorgan had something sharp in his hand—a knife? His arm drew back and it disappeared. He had thrown it!

Startled, Raine failed to dodge in time. The piece of glass cut into her cheek. For such a small cut, it burned quite a lot. Jorgan may have been drunk, but his aim was just fine. Raine grimaced; she was out of practice. It was inconvenient how a month of inactivity could undermine eight years of training.

Jorgan started to throw another piece of glass, but Raine was ready for him this time. Grabbing his arm, her voice snapped and crackled as she hissed," Stop."

Instead, he sneered and rammed his fist into her stomach. Doubling over, Raine staggered back, gasping in pain. The fire voice had come back, but it had not worked this time. Why? She straightened, still clutching her stomach. No matter. That was not how she planned to take him down, anyway. And it was always more fun when the prey fights back.

Raine grinned a snarling grin. As Jorgan lunged forward with a punch, she crouched, letting his momentum carry him stumbling past her. His fist had glanced off her cheekbone, causing tiny black spots to explode in her left eye. Raine quickly whirled around and kicked the back of his knees, making him buckle and fall. Jorgan got back to his feet, cursing, and threw himself at Raine. She barely managed to dodge, feeling her back slam into a slimy wall of the narrow alleyway. As he passed, she caught a whiff of ale.

Of course! The drunken fool was so intoxicated that his false bravado had made him unreceptive to his natural instincts! Raine faced Jorgan, who lay against the wall gasping for breath. His eyes were glazed, and his eyelids drooped. To Raine's surprise, he spoke.

"I said I'd get you back, hispkt! I dunno what you were doing with that scruffy piece of trash from Midnight's gang, but he's obviously important to you. And I hit where it hurts," Jorgan mumbled.

A red haze began to envelop Raine's mind. Her face lost its grin, becoming a blank mask once again. Raine's vision began to flash, orange sparks appearing in the corners if her eyes. Her fist cocked back and slammed into Jorgan's smug, ratty face. Again and again she struck at him. Blind with fury, Raine no longer cared that her fist occasionally hit stone instead of flesh and bone.

He grunted with pain; though he was small for his age, he had grown some endurance to pain from frequent bar fights. Plus, he was still bigger than Raine. When she finally stopped her furious salvo, both were panting with exertion. Raine's knuckles were a bloody mess of bruises, scraped raw by her multitude of blows.

Jorgan still managed to sneer weakly. "Look at that dead expression on your face. I bet you wouldn't look like that if I told you that I was going to rape that little friend of yours. That pale, shy one. The spunky one seems fun too, but I like to hear the quiet ones squeal. I had fun abusing her; she'll be even more fun when she's a little older. She'll become the town whore—our own little tourist attraction." He then proceeded to explain in detail Shadow's "training" and what he would do to her in private. Torture, bondage…he left nothing out.

The red haze became pitch black. A thudding beat pounded her head, making everything tremble. Screams of fear and anguish reverberated through her head, along with the high, whining screech of metal scraping stone and ghostly wails. Voices filled her ears, babbling snatches of conversations she did not know.

_ "NO! Please, not her!"_

_ "I'll do anything-"_

_ "Help….help!"_

_ "Chaos and Pandemonium will rule."_

_ "Mommy—"_

_ "It hurts!"_

_ "Devil child—"_

_ "She is chaos."_

_ "Your punishment shall be—"_

_ "I shall name her Raine."_

Her mind suddenly cleared. The screaming was still there, loud as before, but had settled into her mind with a faint _click!_ of belonging. Raine's vision returned slowly, darkly muted colors filling in the spaces where there had only been black. The first thing she saw was Jorgan. He stared at her, his face cautious and full of contempt. Hatred filled her, an oily black tide that flooded her and swept her away.

A menacing chuckle escaped her throat. Here was a weak specimen, easy to hurt. And she wanted to hurt him. The dark desire engulfed her mind, feeding her hatred. She hungered for his pain, wanted to hear his screams. Her hands instinctively reached out and hooked into claws. She closed her eyes, focusing on her heartbeat. _Thump, thump, thump, thump._

Jorgan's scream seemed to split the air. Her eyes snapped open to observe him twisted in pain, clawing at his head. Her face twisting into a cruel, mocking sneer, she relished his pain. It seemed to feed her, the sweet taste lingering on her tongue. Leaning closer, she planted a foot on his chest. "Weak bugs should know their place," she hissed. Her voice was a double-timbre; low and rasping, yet high and cold. She had power. The power to bend anyone to her will.

She could do anything she wanted. And she wanted more. She wanted to hear Jorgan scream louder. Louder. Louder!

She shrieked with laughter, exulting in his pleas. Jorgan writhed on the ground, crying, screaming, pleading. Each new screech torn from his throat seemed to bring a fresh wave of agony. Her pulse pounded quicker and quicker as she concentrated, her hands twisting closer and closer together. Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthu mpthump.

There was a crystalline shattering sound, and Jorgan's scream of pure insanity cut through the night air. Someone was laughing manically. With a start, Raine realized that it came from her. The laughter immediately faded. Trembling like a leaf, she felt sick to her stomach.

She had reduced Jorgan to a gibbering mess. She had savored his pain, had wanted to make his suffering eternal. She had hurt Jorgan; not to protect or to punish, but for the sake of hurting someone. She had been drunk on her own power, reveling in a twisted joy that tempted her even now.

Raine's head pounded. The dark presence was still there, lurking in the back of her mind. It was a different sort of feeling from the bright, sparking flame that had awakened within her days ago. This was darker and more dangerous—an abyss of pure chaos. While it was more powerful than the flame, the darkness was a double-edged sword. If she was not careful, it would control her.

Raine shuddered, hugging herself. This new side of herself had left her cold with dread. She moaned, sinking to her knees in misery. "Why is this happening to me?"


End file.
